


MI6 Agents Are Non-Newtonian Fluids

by PerfidiousMadmen



Series: Before China [2]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Silva, AU: Before China, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Implied Sexual Content, James/Tiago, M/M, POV Third Person Omniscient, Past Tense, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Scotland, Spies & Secret Agents, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfidiousMadmen/pseuds/PerfidiousMadmen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James takes Tiago to see his family home ... Skyfall.</p><p>Fluffy hurt/comfort that blurs the lines on who is doing the hurting and who is doing the comforting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	MI6 Agents Are Non-Newtonian Fluids

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: AU: James Bond and Raoul Silva — when both still secret agents, and lovers — spend their rare free time together at Skyfall in Scotland
> 
> From here (with pretty pictures!): http://not-my-three-patch-problem.tumblr.com/post/40788804397/au-james-bond-and-raoul-silva-when-both-still

Tiago begged and cajoled, teased and taunted, and in the end, James relented—as they both had known he would. On a mission to Spain, Tiago had somehow convinced M to allow them a day off, and he had taken James to see his family's ancestral lands. Since then, he had hounded James mercilessly.

"The land of your fathers is important. How can you understand a person if you do not know from where they come?"

"I don't want to be understood."

Tiago wrapped his arms around James from behind and rested his head on his shoulder.

"It is a hard place for you."

James grunted in reply.

"Then we can make new memories, make it a good place again."

"Fuck you, Tiago. Have you ever accepted a 'No' in your life?"

"Yes, of course, of course."

James pushed him away and turned to look him in the eye. "From someone other than M?"

Tiago laughed, but only said, "In two weeks, after Johannesburg, we have three free days."

And though James said no a thousand times, somehow he found himself standing at the gates of Skyfall two weeks later. Tiago had driven most of the night, then James had taken over for the last several hours. Dawn was just breaking over the mountains.

Tiago stretched and blinked against the brightness. _"¡Qué hermosa!_ It has a beauty so ... hard. But how can a child live in such a place? So quiet, so alone, so cold—just like you." He thumped his shoulder against James's as he walked past.

James smiled and turned back to the car. "Get in."

He drove closer and into the sunlight spread across the glen. He pulled up in front of the manor, grateful that Tiago had the good sense to say nothing. The building, looming so large in his childhood memories, still seemed impressive—perhaps not possessing quite the gargantuan proportions it did in his dreams, but imposing nevertheless.

James paused at the front door, then pushed it open, and went inside.

He stood in the entryway, looking at the dark wood, the dust, the gloom. He had expected some reaction, some flood of unwanted memories or emotions, but he felt nothing. It was like entering any other place.

Tiago came in to the entryway and softly asked, "How does it find you?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Yes. I am," and it was not a lie.

James found a note on a side table. Kincade had received his letter, but was out for the day, visiting his sister who was in hospital, and—depending on her condition—he would return in the evening or the next morning.

"How many bedrooms has a house like this?"

"I don't know. A lot. I'd have to count."

"We can count together."

"Tiago ..."

"For research! Just think, those Chechens still are looking for us. If they attack in the night, what poor agents we would be to not know our environment. For research."

"I'm starving. Come on, I'll show you where the kitchen is. For research."

They ate, made detailed observations of one of the bedrooms—followed by a nap—then they set off for a tramp across the moor.

Tiago attempted several topics of conversation but all died swiftly. So they walked in comfortable silence.

They were several miles out when clouds rolled in. The temperature dropped noticeably as the sun was blocked, but walking kept the men warm. When the wind began, Tiago turned up his collar and mentally cursed his decision to forgo a scarf. He thought of all the times James had mocked his sensitivity to the cold—no wonder he was impervious, if this was the weather he had known as a child.

"James ... should we not start back?" After a time with no sound but the crunching of dirt beneath their feet, he spoke again. "My blood is too thin for this! Give me a beach ... a cocktail ... a beautiful lady ..." But James did not even respond to that taunt.

Tiago turned to stand in front of James and caught him by the shoulders. His eyes were wide, his gaze unfocused. "Stop. Stop! James. What are you doing? What happens? _¿Qué pasa? ¡Dime! cariño, dime ..."_

James started then blinked rapidly. "Yes. It's far enough." He shrugged off Tiago's hands and started walking back the way they had come. Tiago followed, then drew up to walk next to him—close, but not touching. Side by side, they walked in silence.

The clouds came lower. Snow began swirling through the air, dampening every sound.

Tiago calculated the time and distance back to the manor house, the approximate temperature and wind-chill. Though he had only a light coat, he knew he was in no danger as long as he continued to move. Discomfort did not worry him. James's mental state, however, worried him a great deal. He turned, as if to look around, and surreptitiously pulled his coat zipper open. Cold air and errant snowflakes infiltrated around his neck. He grinned into the wind. This was going to hurt.

By the time they came within sight of the house, neither had spoken. Tiago's hair was soaked with melted snow, his hands tingled, shivers trembled through his body, his feet felt too heavy by half—hypothermia. When they were a few hundred meters from the house, he took aim at a rock sticking up from the path, tripped over it, and stumbled to the ground. Though it was a planned fall, he landed harder than he had expected, knocking the breath from his lungs.

It took a moment for realization of what had happened to break through James's reverie, but when it did, he asked, "Tiago?"

"No, no, it is nothing." His teeth chattered uncontrollably.

"Hypothermia. Dammit."

"No ... it is not so cold now ..."

"We're almost there. Get up!"

"Soon, _un momentito ..."_

James yanked off his hat and pulled it down onto Tiago's head, then dragged him to his feet and half-carried, half-dragged him the remaining distance to the house. Tiago staggered, letting James take most of his weight, feeling the heat of his body, so close.

James got Tiago inside and to the master bathroom. He started the the large, claw-foot bathtub filling with warm water—not too hot—pulled off Tiago's jacket, unbuttoned his shirt with cold-clumsy fingers. "Cotton? Do you have a death wish?"

"Do you?"

James ignored the question and peeled the wet shirt off of Tiago's torso.

"How far would you have walked?" Tiago asked through teeth clenched against the chattering.

Steam filled the air as James removed belt, trousers, underpants, then helped Tiago into the bathtub. Tiago hissed when the water hit his skin, it felt scalding. The rising waterline burned like a line of fire around his body. He closed his eyes.

The water turned off, then a hand pressed against his back. He moved forward in the tub, and James slid in behind him, making the water slop over the edge and onto the floor.

Tiago leaned back against James, who hugged him close. Warmth surrounded him. Tiago did not believe in heaven—or much at all, other than the keenness of his mind, the strength of the man behind him, and her—but he was tempted to think that if such a place could be, it would be nothing to compare with this moment.

James cupped his hands, filled them with water, and poured it gently over Tiago's head. He raked his fingers through Tiago's hair, massaging his scalp. Tiago made short _mmm_ s, as he often did unconsciously when happy—something James found terribly endearing, though he would never say so.

"I'm sorry," James said.

"We should leave."

James was silent for a long time, then finally said, "No."

"You are sure?"

"I've run away for too long. What did you said, something about making new memories?"

Tiago looked back and pulled James into a long, slow kiss. When they broke apart, James thumped Tiago on the back.

"And you! Stubborn. Why didn't you say you were getting cold?"

"Agents are strange things, James. The harder you push, the harder they get. The only way to get inside is to lean away, then they come to you."

They stayed there a long time, wrapped in warm water and each other, a world away from MI6.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Tiago says, "How beautiful!", "What happened? Tell me! Darling, tell me ...", and "A minute ..." in Spanish. "Dime" is pronounced "dee-meh" by the way, not like "dime", a ten-cent piece.
> 
> Also, Tiago's English is not quite as good as Silva's, and it tends to get worse when he is tired or stressed.


End file.
